


dile que no peleo

by rjtondale



Category: Latin American Celebrities RPF, Music RPF, Nada - Cazzu (Music Video), Reggaeton RPF, Reggaetón Music RPF
Genre: Airbending & Airbenders, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Battle, Earth, Earthbending & Earthbenders, Electricity, Elemental Magic, Fire, Firebending & Firebenders, Gen, Genetically Engineered Beings, Science Fiction, Superpowers, Team as Family, Water, Waterbending & Waterbenders, Wind - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22306318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rjtondale/pseuds/rjtondale
Summary: “Don’t touch me,” Cazzu says.The man doesn’t back off; in fact, he leans in closer, leering down at her chest. He’s not quite touching her yet, but with his arm around the back of her seat, he’s close enough. He stinks of alcohol and sweat. Cazzu has to fight not to gag when his breath hits her cheek.“I said, don’t touch me,” she repeats.“It’s fine, sweetie,” he says. “I just want -”He doesn’t get a chance to finish the sentence, because at that moment, Cazzu bursts into flames.
Relationships: Cazzu & Dalex & Rauw Alejandro & Lyanno, Cazzu/Eladio Carrion
Kudos: 6





	dile que no peleo

“Don’t touch me,” Cazzu says.

The man doesn’t back off; in fact, he leans in closer, leering down at her chest. He’s not quite touching her yet, but with his arm around the back of her seat, he’s close enough. He stinks of alcohol and sweat. Cazzu has to fight not to gag when his breath hits her cheek.

“I said, don’t _touch_ me,” she repeats.

“It’s fine, sweetie,” he says. “I just want -”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish the sentence, because at that moment, Cazzu bursts into flames. It’s a quick flare, nowhere near as hot as she can go, but the man screams and jerks back. There are more shouts, gasps, and somewhere, an alarm is wailing.

When her vision clears, Cazzu turns toward the man again. He cradles his blistering arm, eyes wild with confusion and fear. She glances down at herself next; she’s okay, her clothes protected by her coat, but her bag is a singed mess.

She can’t bring herself to look at the other passengers. She sees a phone from the corner of her eye, and that’s all she needs to know.

As the train slows to a stop, that alarm still blaring, Cazzu gathers up her things, shoves what she can into her pockets and cradles the rest in her arms, and pushes past her victim to reach the door. He shrinks into his seat as she passes.

Even in her panic, Cazzu thinks, _Good._

This isn’t her stop. Not even close. Regardless, she shoves through the crowd and flies up the stairs, hoping that a landmark at street-level will give her a clue as to where she is. Coming up from the darkness of the station and with lingering sparks in her eyes, she blinks against the harsh morning sunlight.

She can’t stand here on the sidewalk forever. If someone did catch her on camera, half the city will be after her by nightfall. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, letting the heat in her blood steady her trembling fingers.

When she surveys the street again, she sighs in relief; if her mental map is right, she’s only four blocks from Dalex’s house. Her legs ache to run, but she doesn’t want to draw any more attention to herself than she has to. She’s not exactly inconspicuous on a regular day, with her fire-engine red coat and equally vibrant lipstick, but a frenzied sprint up the sidewalk is sure to draw stares.

Cazzu speed-walks instead, trying to look like she’s late for an appointment instead of fleeing from something. _No one is looking at you_, she tells herself. Still, she wishes she had a cigarette. She doesn’t smoke, but it helps explain away the light ashy smell that trails behind her after a flare.

She does break into a run for the last few meters up to the door; she can’t help it. She rings the bell four times in a row, muttering _please be home, please be home_ on loop under her breath. While she waits, she bounces on the balls of her feet. This still doesn’t feel real.

Just as she’s reaching up to ring the bell a fifth time, Dalex opens the door. He’s wearing his mirrored sunglasses, and Cazzu sees herself for the first time since the flare: face flushed, hair disheveled, lipstick smeared, irises tinged slightly red. If passers-by on the street _had_ been staring, she wouldn’t blame them.

“Dalex,” she says.

“Cazzu,” Dalex replies, and his gentle voice is enough. She bursts into tears.

Dalex opens the door wider, ushering her inside. She follows willingly, and when he holds out his arms, she drops her tattered bag and falls into his embrace. He’s so cool, so calm; she can nearly feel the steam coming off her body where he touches her. The hot tears are still spilling down her cheeks, but her heart rate slows, the sparks fading.

“Let’s sit down,” he murmurs.

Side-by-side on the couch, Cazzu recounts the story between hiccuping sobs. “They’re going to find me,” she says at last. “They’re going to find _us_. I shouldn’t have come here.”

She stands to leave, but Dalex catches her hand. He’d removed his sunglasses while she talked, and he gazes up at her. No matter how many times he looks at her like that, his liquid, nearly pupil-less eyes will always unnerve her just a little bit. She bites her lip, but doesn’t turn away.

“Don’t go,” he says. “We’ll figure this out. We’re in this together.”

“I can’t put you in danger.”

“You can’t put yourself in danger to protect us.”

“Like you do?”

“Sit down.”

She sits down.

“It’s going to be fine.” Dalex grabs an empty glass from the table. As soon as he touches it, it fills with water, and he hands it to her.

“Show-off,” Cazzu laughs through her tears.

Dalex smiles. “Drink it. It’ll make you feel better. I’ll call the others. Like I said - we’re in this together.”

While Dalex steps into the kitchen to summon the rest of their group, Cazzu pulls out her own half-fried phone. It still turns on, barely, but the screen is cracked and inexplicably foggy. She’s already very late for work - though she’d nearly forgotten that’s where she was going before all the chaos - but she doesn’t try to call her manager. If she gets out of this alive and not imprisoned in another lab, she’ll tell him she was mugged.

She’s nearly finished the glass of water when it suddenly refills in her hand. She turns to glare at Dalex, though she knows he can’t see her from this distance. “You’re welcome,” he says.

“I’ll burn this house down.”

“You won’t.”

He’s right. This is the only place she feels safe, even more than in her own home. Dalex comes back to the sofa beside Cazzu, and she rests her head on his shoulder. She’s still anxious, still terrified that someone will knock down the door and drag her out, but there’s nothing she can do about it now. They can’t make a plan without the others here. They can only wait.

* * *

Soon, the tree outside Dalex’s window begins to sway. Cazzu jumps when it taps against the window, but Dalex just shakes his head. “Someday he’ll have to get that under control,” he says.

Dalex opens the door just as Raúl is raising his fist to knock. He’s breathing hard, but not sweating. “I got here as fast as I could.”

“With some help?” Dalex adds, smoothing his hair down from the gust of wind that followed Raúl inside. Cazzu runs her fingers through her own hair.

“Yeah,” Raúl confesses, “maybe a little. But I’m here, aren’t I?”

Raúl joins them in the living room. He claims the chair opposite Cazzu and leans back. He doesn’t say anything; he watches Cazzu expectantly, as if expecting her to light up again right in front of him.

She could. His wind and Dalex’s water would put her out before she caused too much damage. She almost wants to, just to burn off the last of the man’s stench from her skin. But she shouldn’t - the last thing they need right now is an army of firefighters descending on the house. She settles for snapping her fingers to generate a tiny spark.

“What are you going to do?” Raúl asks.

“I don’t know,” Cazzu says. Her voice almost breaks on the last word, but she distracts herself with another snap, another spark. “I shouldn’t be here right now.”

“Where else would you go?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but Dalex answers first. “Nowhere. You’re safest here, with us. We’re stronger together.”

As if on cue, there’s another knock on the door. They all freeze; without a signal, they have no way of knowing whether the newcomer is their friend or not. Dalex rises slowly and puts his sunglasses back on. “I’ll -”

And then the potted plant closest to the door topples over. “Shit!” Raúl cries, leaping halfway out of his chair and sending another gust through the room.

Cazzu laughs nervously. “I guess we’re safe.”

Dalex opens the door, and Lyanno storms in past him. He makes a beeline for Cazzu and plants himself on the sofa beside her.

“You killed the guy, right?”

“No,” Cazzu says. “Burned his arm pretty bad, though.”

“You should’ve killed him.” A tremor rolls through the floor. “He deserved -”

“Lyanno,” Dalex warns.

“Neighbors, dude,” Raúl says.

The shaking subsides, but Lyanno is still fuming. Cazzu takes his hand. Normally his anger would make her own flare up - so to speak - but she can’t risk losing her thin veneer of calm. “I’m not worried about him, Ly,” she says. It’s not entirely a lie.

“Dalex said on the phone that there might have been a camera. Have you checked online? Watched the news at all?”

“No,” Cazzu says.

“We were waiting for you, I think,” Raúl says. “I guess there’s a chance that they didn’t catch anything.”

Dalex is already reaching for the remote by the time Raúl finishes speaking. “Only one way to find out. Stop me when we hit the news.” He cringes at his own phrasing. “When you see a news channel on,” he amends.

As he flips through the channels, he sinks down onto the couch on Cazzu’s other side. Raúl might be right, Cazzu thinks; there’s a chance that she imagined the phone pointed at her, or that the witnesses’ videos turned out blurry. Their secret could still be safe.

“Stop,” she, Raúl, and Lyanno say in unison. Dalex sets the remote down and listens.

They’ve stopped on the local news channel, which is currently showing the weather report. It’s sunny today, hardly even a breeze - Raúl snorts at that - but storms are supposed to roll in this afternoon and continue through tomorrow.

“We can use that,” Lyanno says, “if they come for us. The wind and the water.”

“Come for _me_, you mean,” Cazzu says.

“We don’t even know if they’re coming yet,” Raúl says. “We haven’t seen -”

And there she is. Cazzu, on the news, coming down from her flare, radiant and smoking and unmistakable. The man is there, too; Cazzu has to look away as the shaky camera pans over to his face, then his arm. Raúl sucks in a sharp breath.

“How bad is it?” Dalex asks.

“Bad,” Raúl and Lyanno answer together.

Dalex turns the volume up. “...on cell phone video this morning,” the newscaster is saying. “Authorities are still attempting to determine the source of the attack, as well as the identity of the girl in the red coat. Stay tuned for more as this story develops. If you have any more information about this event, please call -”

Lyanno reaches over Cazzu and plucks the remote from Dalex’s grip, muting the TV as the video starts playing again. There’s a long, tense silence in its wake. Though no one is looking at her, Cazzu knows they’re all waiting for her to speak. She takes a deep breath, but doesn’t say anything.

“Well,” Raúl says.

“So much for ‘maybe they didn’t see her,’” Lyanno says.

“But they don’t know who she is yet. That’s good,” Raúl says.

“Is she just supposed to -”

“I’m right here,” Cazzu interrupts. It comes out louder than she intended, and she hardly realizes she’s on the verge of another flare until Lyanno jerks his hand out of hers. His reaction should be enough to calm her down, but it only makes her more angry. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

“Sorry,” Raúl says, and Lyanno echoes, “Sorry.”

Flames lick the tips of Cazzu’s fingers. Raúl’s face blurs as the sparks fill her eyes again. “Just shut up for a minute,” she says. She never should have come here; this is _her_ problem, and they won’t even let her think now.

Dalex holds out his hand, but she brushes him off. He’s the worst of them, acting so calm when she’s clearly in crisis. He probably has a whole scheme in mind already, some quick fix that will solve everything, the next hours or days of her life mapped out in his head.

But when she turns to look at him, to accuse him, the TV catches her eye. The man from the train is in front of her again. Even with a microphone in his face and his arm in a sling, he’s leering at the reporter the same way he leered at Cazzu, and it takes every ounce of control Cazzu has not to light up again in a full extinction burst, taking the whole neighborhood down with her.

This may be her problem, but it’s his fault. Lyanno was right. She should have killed him.

“Cazzu,” Dalex says softly. “It’s okay.”

He’s wrong. It’s not okay. He thinks he’s always right, but this time he’s wrong. They’re going to come for her, come for _them_, and it’s that man’s fault.

“Cazzu,” Dalex repeats, this time more forcefully. “Cazzu, stop. Breathe. You can’t light up here.”

He’s right about that, at least. She breathes, and the sparks recede. Dalex doesn’t dare touch her, but the cool comfort radiating from his skin soothes her a little. On her other side, Lyanno sits perfectly still. Cazzu leans back into the sofa.

The video is playing on the TV again. She tries to ignore it.

“What do you want to do?” Dalex asks.

“I don’t know,” Cazzu says. “I want this to go away. I want to be normal. I want - I want that motherfucker off your screen.” She snatches the remote out of Lyanno’s hand, clicks the TV off, and throws the remote halfway across the room.

“That’s one problem solved,” Raúl says lightly.

Dalex holds his hand out again, and this time Cazzu takes it. “Raúl, get your phone out. Keep an eye on the story online so we don’t have to keep watching the video. Lyanno, clean up the mess you made when you came in, please. Cazzu, breathe. It’s going to be fine.”

“We’ve been through worse,” Lyanno says as he stands. He rights the pot by hand, but flicks his fingers to send the remaining clumps of soil back into it. “Useless fucking power,” he murmurs under his breath.

“At least you’re not likely to get us on the news,” Cazzu says.

Lyanno shrugs. “I could if I wanted to. Could knock down a couple of buildings or something. Collapse a mine. Do we have mines around here?” Cazzu laughs, and Lyanno grins. “I win.”

“Don’t try me,” Cazzu says. She snaps again, sparks again.

“It’s fine. We just have to keep you calm.” Raúl hums a vaguely tropical song and sends a gentle breeze to flutter Cazzu’s hair. “Dalex, you’ll have to help me out with the crashing waves.”

“Stop that,” Dalex says. “Any update on the story?”

“Not yet.”

“Are we just going to wait it out?” Lyanno asks.

“It’s all we can do,” Dalex says.

“So, what, I just can’t go outside until this blows over? I’m stuck here with you three?” Cazzu looks at each of them. Lyanno is still standing, arms crossed, and Raúl won’t meet her eye. Dalex squeezes Cazzu’s hand.

“It’s -” Dalex starts.

“If any of you say ‘it’s fine’ one more time, I’m lighting up and then leaving,” Cazzu says.

Dalex shakes his head. “You’re right. It’s not fine. If they find out who you are, it won’t be long before they connect you to the lab and to us.” He pauses. “They’ll find us eventually. We can run, or we can wait.”

“Where would we go if we ran?” Raúl asks. “The video’s going viral already. We’d have to go to fucking… I don’t know, where do they not have internet? Antarctica? Cazzu could keep us warm.”

“I’m pretty sure they have internet in Antarctica. It’s all scientists and shit down there,” Lyanno says.

Raúl shudders. “Not Antarctica, then. If I never see another scientist in my life it’ll be too soon.”

“We shouldn’t run, anyway,” Lyanno says. “If we stay here and they show up, we can fight back. Home turf, you know?”

“Yeah,” Raúl says.

“It’s Cazzu’s call,” Dalex says.

Cazzu closes her eyes and thinks. She doesn’t want to have to fight. If anyone asked whether she enjoyed hurting people, she’d deny it - even if she does believe that some people deserve to be hurt.

Besides, if they did put up a fight, they’d have no chance of ever hiding again. Worst-case, they’d be killed or captured. Best-case, the whole world would know about them and their power.

But where would they run? How long could they last before someone slipped up again? Would they have to live the rest of their lives watching over their shoulders?

“We’re staying,” Cazzu says.

Dalex smiles. “I hoped you’d say that.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Lyanno and Raúl are gone, sent off to shop for food and other supplies for the possible siege to come. Cazzu and Dalex are alone again. The quiet is nice, but the house feels empty with just the two of them. Cazzu wonders how Dalex lives here all by himself without going insane.

As if reading her mind, Dalex asks, “Do you get lonely?”

“Yes,” Cazzu says without hesitation.

“I miss when you were always within arm’s reach. All of you.”

“You were the one who insisted we live separately.”

“I know.”

“Changed your mind?” Cazzu raises her eyebrows. Dalex would never admit he was wrong, but going back on a decision like this would be close enough. No wonder he waited until the boys left to ask the question.

“No,” he says. “I still think it was best for us to be independent. I’m just thinking out loud.”

Cazzu’s eyebrows go even higher. “Was?”

Dalex picks up Cazzu’s abandoned glass, fills it again, and hands it to her. She takes it but doesn’t drink; she watches him warily. When he doesn’t say anything, she shifts her whole body to face him on the sofa.

“Dalex, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Dalex sighs. “Cazzu. If we’re forced into a fight, what do you think our odds are of winning?”

“We -”

“Be honest. Honest with yourself, I mean. How long do you think this is going to last?”

“I don’t know,” Cazzu says. She can feel her lip beginning to quiver, but she refuses to cry again. “I don’t know. Do you think they’ll come for us? Do you think they’ll find us?”

“Yes,” Dalex says.

“Everything’s going to be different if they do.”

“Yes.”

“Even if we win,” she says.

“Even if we win,” he echoes.

“We can still run.”

“No, we can’t.”

He’s right. He’s always right. It’s too late now. They made their choice. When Lyanno and Raúl come back, the four of them together will fortify the house, turn it into the perfect low-profile bunker. They’ll watch the news, watch the weather, and wait.

“There’s one good thing about this, though,” Dalex says. The hint of a smile plays across his face.

“What’s that?”

“We’re all going to be within arm’s reach. For as long as this takes.”

“For as long as this takes,” she echoes, leaning her head on his shoulder again. He rests his head on hers, pressing his cheek to her hair. “At least we’re together.”

_For our last days_, she thinks, but doesn’t say.

* * *

Cazzu is on her fourth lap around the room when the tree scrapes against the window again. She freezes and turns to Dalex. “It’s too early for them to be back already, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think that’s Raúl,” Dalex says. The tree sways, and the first drops of rain tap the glass. “Because that’s not me.”

They watch and listen to the water running down. It’s not storming heavily yet, but the dark clouds on the horizon aren’t promising. _Perfect_, Cazzu thinks, and it’s only somewhat sarcastic. Maybe the storm will give them some cover. Even if it doesn’t, it seems fitting for their imprisonment.

“Sit down. You’re making me nervous,” Dalex says.

“You should be nervous,” Cazzu says.

“Maybe. But you don’t need to be pacing around like a caged tiger.”

“What else am I going to do?”

Before Dalex can answer, a distant roll of thunder shakes the house. Cazzu isn’t afraid of storms exactly, but the sound still sets her heart racing. Maybe it’s instinct. Fire, water.

Dalex pats the couch beside him, but Cazzu doesn’t sit. Instead, she moves toward the window. She can’t see much; the fence around Dalex’s tiny backyard is high enough that she can’t see the next street. But there are no planes, no helicopters, no search lights in the sky.

Will she even see them when they come?

“When the others get back, we should practice,” Dalex says, and it takes a moment for Cazzu to realize he’s answering her last question.

“Practice what?”

“You know.” He summons a droplet of water from the air, then flicks it toward her. It splatters against her coat, re-forms, and rolls off onto the floor. “Lyanno wants to fight. So we should get ready for a fight.”

“He told me the other day he was working on something new.”

“So am I. We can show off. Make our own little training montage.” Dalex smiles, and Cazzu can’t help but smile back.

“Okay.”

Just then, a key turns in the lock, and Lyanno and Raúl stumble into the house. Their arms are loaded down with bags, their clothes with water. Cazzu rushes over to help them, and Dalex stands. “That came out of nowhere,” Lyanno says, gesturing toward the window.

“Yeah. We were going to get more, but we didn’t want to be out in it anymore,” Raúl adds.

“Help us out, D, will you?” Lyanno says.

Dalex lifts his hand, and the water from Lyanno’s and Raúl’s clothes floats up into a liquid cloud above their heads. Lyanno starts to say something else, but Dalex points at him. “Don’t make me drop it,” he warns.

“I was just going to say ‘thank you,’” Lyanno says.

“Mhm.” Dalex sends the cloud into the kitchen and down the sink.

Cazzu ignores them both, instead peering into the bag Raúl hands her. “What’d you get?”

“Bunch of stuff,” Raúl says. “A lot of food. We couldn’t remember if you still had clothes here, so we got you a new outfit, too.”

“A disguise,” Lyanno corrects.

Raúl rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I guess a disguise. In case you have to go out. I hope we got the right size, anyway. And we got some stuff so we won’t get bored.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Dalex says.

“Dalex has plans,” Cazzu says. She hums the _Rocky_ theme song as she carries a couple of the grocery bags into the kitchen. She’s terrified to see what kind of “disguise” the boys picked out for her - but it’s a low-key kind of terror that’s actually a relief from her anxiety about the immediate future. They know her style; surely they won’t be too far off the mark.

But as soon as she sees their purchase, she doubles over laughing.

“How bad is it?” Dalex asks.

“Bad,” Cazzu answers when she can breathe again.

It’s a dress, which wouldn’t be that bad on its own. She doesn’t mind dresses. But while her usual wardrobe is black, red, maybe the occasional splash of neon, this dress is a pastel pink, with a hastily-tied bow in the middle that would look more at home on a child’s Easter outfit. It could be worse - the cut isn’t bad, and there are no ruffles or glitter - but it’s very much _not_ Cazzu.

Dalex rolls the material between his fingers. “Is this lace?”

“Yes,” Cazzu says.

“Have you ever worn lace?”

“I’ve worn lace,” Cazzu says. Three pairs of eyebrows shoot up nearly to the ceiling, and she snorts. “Yeah. Think on that one a minute. In the meantime - why would you think _this_ would be the ideal outfit for me?”

“It’s a disguise,” Lyanno repeats. “The point is that you don’t look like you.”

“It’s going to take more than a bridesmaid’s dress to make me look like not-me,” Cazzu says. She throws her long hair over her shoulder and pushes up her sleeves, exposing her tattoo-covered forearms. The choker around her throat suddenly feels very tight. She takes it off and lays it on the counter beside the pile of empty shopping bags.

“We could cut your hair,” Raúl suggests. “I mean, I couldn’t, but -”

“I’m not doing it,” Lyanno says quickly.

“Which leaves the blind man,” Dalex says with a half-smile. “No. We’re not cutting your hair. And you don’t have to wear… that. I don’t think it would even hold up in this weather. If you have to go out, which I don’t think you will, we’ll think of something else.”

_Bless him._ Cazzu would rather stay in this house for the rest of the year than wear that dress out where someone might see her. 

But the mention of going out, of lace, stirred something in the back of her mind. There was something she was supposed to remember. Something she was supposed to -

“Oh, shit,” she breathes. “I had plans tonight.”

* * *

Cazzu shuts herself in Dalex’s bedroom with his phone in her hand. She’d managed to get the number out of her own scorched phone, but it refused to make the call itself. She just hopes he answers.

He does. “Hello?”

“Eladio. It’s Julieta.”

“Julieta? What - I’m at work. Is everything okay? Did you change your number?”

Cazzu lets out a small laugh. No, nothing is okay, but she can’t tell him that. “Everything’s fine. Sorry. I’m calling from a friend’s phone. Mine kind of… it’s broken.” She takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I’m going to make dinner tonight. I’m sorry.”

There’s a long pause. Tears are welling up in Cazzu’s eyes again. She snaps a spark, then another, but it feels wrong to use her power while talking to Eladio, even if he can’t see her.

Even if he’s not actually talking.

“Eladio?”

“I’m still here,” he says. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound too good.”

“I’m fine. There’s some stuff going on, but you don’t need to worry about it. I’ll…” _I’ll call you when I can_, she wants to say. But will she be able to call him again? The idea that this might be their last call is almost enough to push her over the edge, but she holds the tears back with another spark. “I’ll work it out,” she says instead, not that that’s any more true.

“I’m sure you will,” he says.

She wants to ask him to keep talking. That low voice, always with a smile under it, always on the verge of laughter, could carry her through this on its own. But she can’t ask him to do that. It’s too much.

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “And I know you’re at work. You should go. I just had to tell you.”

“It’s okay. Do you - can I text you on this number?”

“No,” she says, and it’s the hardest syllable she’s ever uttered.

Another pause. And then he says, “Okay. Call me when you can. I hope I see you soon.”

“I hope so too. Te quiero.”

“Y yo más que tú a mi.”

She hangs up, and the tears fall. He always says that, every time she says “te quiero” first, but it sounds different this time, still ringing in her ears. She hopes he doesn’t believe it. All she can do is hope now.

Maybe she should’ve told him what was going on - a sanitized version, at least. Or the opposite - she could’ve told him not to watch the news, not to ask questions, not to mention to anyone that he knows her. She should have said _something_.

It’s too late now. She can’t call him back now, not when her body is shaking with sobs, and not when she just shut him down like that. _Get it together_, she orders herself. It’s too late to do anything but wait; they’ve already made that decision. It’s done. Nothing more to do.

And if she has to be angry to keep from crying, she will.

When she comes out of the bedroom, Dalex and Lyanno are still putting away the last of the groceries, Raúl standing off to the side, buried in his phone. “What’d your boyfriend say?” Lyanno asks.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Cazzu replies immediately.

“Oh, you broke up? Sorry to hear that.”

“No. We’re friends.” She wants to explain more - it wasn’t like that, it was just a few dates, a few nights, no labels, maybe just the beginning of a hint of deeper feelings - but there’s no point. “I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Did he see the video?” Raúl asks.

“If he did, he didn’t say anything.”

“No updates, by the way,” Raúl says before Dalex can ask. “They’re still just asking if anybody recognizes her. A lot of people are saying it might be a hoax.”

“You should comment back saying it is,” Lyanno says.

“Don’t,” Dalex says. “Don’t put anything out there that can be tied to you. If they find Cazzu’s name, if they dig at all, they’ll find us.”

“And they will,” Cazzu finishes for him.

“They will,” Dalex confirms. Lyanno makes a disappointed _hmph_ noise, but doesn’t argue further.

None of them are the gambling type, but if they’d placed bets, Cazzu is sure that every one of them would have put money on Lyanno breaking first - including Lyanno himself. Like he said, he could’ve toppled a building or collapsed a mine with a snap of his fingers. He’s not much younger than the rest of them, but some days, those few years seem to make a world of difference.

Cazzu probably would have been the second choice, though, she realizes. She doesn’t think she’s as impulsive, but a woman bursting into flame is a bit more difficult to explain away than a minor earthquake or gust of wind. A bit less of a “natural” disaster.

Dalex doesn’t even rank. He’s always completely under control - or seems to be.

“I’m sorry,” Cazzu blurts. She hardly realizes she’s said it until all eyes are fixed on her. Unsure what to say next, she repeats, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Dalex asks.

“This,” she says.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Raúl says.

“Yeah, I mean, we all probably thought it was going to be me, but…” Lyanno shrugs. “Sooner or later.”

Even after months of living apart, they’re still so perfectly in sync, still seeming to share one genetically-modified brain. Cazzu wants to cry again. Instead, she says, “Yeah.”

Lyanno leans against the counter and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a pair of small stones, worn shiny from years of touch, and sets them into a slow orbit around and between his fingers. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he stays silent.

“Let’s start working on the house,” Dalex says.

* * *

Soon, the blinds are drawn, all external locks double- and triple- and quadruple-checked, all lights except the living room’s shut off. Raúl and Lyanno suggested blocking the doors, but Dalex vetoed that; besides not wanting to trip over rearranged furniture in his own home, he insisted on leaving everything as “normal” as possible.

“Just in case,” he said, “they knock first.”

They won’t knock first. They all know it. But there’s no point in arguing with Dalex.

Now they’re back in the living room, trying to pretend like everything is fine. Lyanno is several minutes into a rant about his classmates when Raúl interrupts him. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Cazzu says.

Raúl holds up his phone. “Some dude is saying he knows you. They have your name.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know. There’s a video.” Without waiting for a response, he plays it.

Lyanno stands to look over Raúl’s shoulder, but Cazzu stays where she is. She’s frozen. She knew they would find her name, but not so soon. And who would identify her?

“Breaking news in the story of the mysterious Fire Girl on the Red Line this morning. An anonymous friend of the girl has come forward with some more information. She is believed to be Julieta Cazzuchelli, age twenty-six, resident of the Park Village West apartment complex. Félix Ortiz has the story.”

“Yes, thank you, Gabriel. I’m here with our source -”

“Damn, they’re blacking out his face,” Raúl interrupts. Dalex shushes him.

“- you know her?”

“We’ve been friends for a year or so,” the source says, and for the first time in her life, Cazzu’s blood runs cold. Even with the anonymizing distortion, she knows that voice. That smile under it, even now on the edge of laughter.

“He sounds familiar,” Lyanno says, but Dalex shushes him, too.

“I never expected to see her on the news,” Eladio continues from Raúl’s phone, “unless she maybe adopted every cat out of a shelter at once or something like that. I definitely don’t know what this fire thing is about.”

“You’ve never seen her do this before?”

“Never. It’s crazy, man, in the video it literally looks like she was on fire. But I just talked to her a couple of hours ago -”

“No,” Cazzu whispers.

“- she sounded fine. I mean, not fine, but not dead or in agonizing pain or anything. Actually, she sounded really upset. I don’t know. I’m worried about her, man.”

“I understand. Did she say where she was when you spoke with her?”

“Nah. It was just a couple of minutes, you know, she told me she couldn’t go out tonight, whatever. I guess she’s with somebody, though, since she didn’t call from her own phone. I’m just here because I want to make sure she’s okay, you know? I want to help y’all figure out what’s going on.”

“We appreciate your help. Is there anything you’d like to say to her, in case she might be watching?”

“Yeah.” Eladio clears his throat. “Julieta, I know you know who I am. Will you please call me? Everybody just wants to know what happened. I don’t think you’re in trouble, or - is she in trouble?”

“No,” the reporter says, but it’s not convincing.

“I just want to see you, and not in a weird-ass viral video. Te quiero, más que a nadie. Call me.”

The video cuts back to the newscaster in the studio, and Raúl shuts it off. Like before, a long silence follows. Cazzu can barely breathe. Raúl is still staring at his phone, Lyanno looking up at Cazzu, Dalex leaning back with his hand over his eyes.

“Cazzu,” Dalex says at last, “who was that?”

“Not her boyfriend,” Lyanno says. His voice is hard, and the stones in his hand tremble.

_Not my boyfriend_, Cazzu thinks, but her mouth won’t move. _Not my boyfriend, and maybe not my friend, either._

Her silence seems to be answer enough for Lyanno. He points at Dalex. “This is why I said we should stay just us. You can’t trust anybody. But no, you wanted us to live separate, so we could pretend to be normal.”

“We’re not pretending -” Dalex starts, but Cazzu cuts him off.

“Have you really not made a single friend?”

Lyanno’s eyes widen at her tone. “No. I haven’t. Not one who could give my full name, age, and half my damn address to the national news. Dalex told us not to get close to anybody, so I haven’t.” Another low rumble rolls through the floor. “At least I’ve been _trying_ to hide.”

Cazzu knows she should back down. Lyanno angry is just as dangerous as Cazzu angry, if not more so, and he’s more likely to draw attention. But this - this part, at least - isn’t her fault. She was never forbidden from making friends. “You don’t talk to anyone but us?”

“I talk to people. And you know what? Maybe I would’ve liked to have a girlfriend or something. But _this_ is what happens when you trust people.”

“You can’t live your whole life -”

“Raúl, have you made friends?” Lyanno interrupts.

Raúl holds his hands up. “Hey, don’t drag me into this.”

“It’s a simple question,” Lyanno says, his voice forced-light. “Friends? A girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

“Leave him alone,” Cazzu says.

“You just don’t want to hear that I’m right.”

“You’re -”

“Hey!”

They all turn to Dalex. Cazzu doesn’t think she’s ever heard him speak so sharply.

“What,” Lyanno snaps.

“Stop it,” Dalex says, and then again, “Stop it. We’re stuck here together for God knows how long. The last thing we need is to start fighting with each other.”

“God,” Raúl snorts. Cazzu and Lyanno share a glance out of habit, and it eases the tension.

Cazzu leans back. “Fuck,” she sighs.

“Yeah,” Lyanno says.

“Thank you,” Dalex says.

In the silence that follows, Cazzu closes her eyes. This has been a long day already. She just wants to rest, but she knows she won’t be able to sleep. They have her name; it won’t be long before they get Raúl’s, Lyanno’s, Dalex’s. And Dalex’s address. She can’t be asleep when they come.

She opens her eyes. Lyanno is spinning his worry-stones around his fingers again, and Raúl’s hair is fluttering gently. Dalex sits perfectly still, but there’s a wet streak on his cheek. Cazzu doesn’t snap, doesn’t spark, doesn’t summon a tongue of flame to play with, though she badly wants to. She calms herself with a deep breath instead.

“Now what?” Raúl asks.

Dalex leans forward and rubs his hands together. “I was hoping you’d ask. Ly, you’ve been working on something, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Lyanno says, his dark eyes suddenly bright. “This is really cool. I mean - I’m still working on it, but… watch.”

He locks his eyes on the same plant he’d knocked over when he came in. For a long moment, nothing happens. Not even the dirt in the pot stirs. Lyanno hums low, but doesn’t blink.

Just as Cazzu is about to ask what she’s supposed to be watching for, the plant’s leaf twitches.

“Ha!” Lyanno cries. “I fucking told you. It’s not just rocks - it’s _Earth_.”

“I think Raúl did that,” Cazzu says.

Raúl shakes his head. “Wasn’t me. That’s impressive, dude. Good job.”

“Do it again,” Dalex says.

“I don’t know if I can.” Lyanno glances at the plant again. “I’ve only made it work a couple of times.”

“It doesn’t count if you can’t do it twice. You have to be able to use it.”

Lyanno’s voice is level, but a shudder runs through the floor. “Let’s see you do better.” 

Dalex holds out his hand, and the plant tilts toward him like he’s holding a magnet. When he moves his fingers, the leaves curl and uncurl slowly. A single drop of water escapes Dalex’s eye and rolls down his cheek as he works; if Cazzu didn’t know better, she’d think he was crying.

She watches him, transfixed. She knew he was powerful, but she’s never seen this before. And it seems effortless - while Lyanno was nearly sweating to cause even the tiniest movement, Dalex makes the plant dance without blinking.

He stops, then shrugs. “It’s the water inside,” he says before they can ask.

“Could you -” Raúl starts.

“No,” Dalex says.

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“No, I can’t do it on a person. Or was there something else?”

Raúl looks down. “That was it.”

“Why not?” Lyanno presses. “Have you tried?”

“I’ve tried,” Dalex says. Cazzu hears the warning in his voice, but Lyanno doesn’t.

“And what? It didn’t work? It doesn’t seem like it would be any different from -”

“I can’t do it on a person,” Dalex repeats more forcefully. “End of discussion.” He turns to Raúl. “Do you have anything new since we last did this?”

“Oh, um.” Raúl scratches the back of his head. “I’ve been working on tornadoes. Little ones. But they don’t hold together for more than a minute or so.”

“Show us.”

* * *

They’ve been working on Raúl’s tornadoes, Lyanno’s plant control, and Cazzu’s miniature fireballs for nearly an hour when a sound shatters their focus. They all freeze; it takes a moment for them to realize that Dalex’s phone is ringing.

“Incoming call from -” a robotic voice says. It recites the number one digit at a time.

“Don’t answer it,” Cazzu says as soon as the voice is finished.

“You know the number?” Dalex asks.

“Yes,” Cazzu says.

“Boyfriend,” Lyanno says under a cough.

Cazzu bites her lip to keep from snapping back. She can’t let Lyanno know how badly that word is starting to hurt. In a different world, under different circumstances, maybe he would’ve been right, and every could-have-been is like a slap across the face, reminding Cazzu why they’re stuck here.

The phone stops ringing.

“You should turn off your phones,” Raúl says. They all turn to look at him, and he nods. “Yeah. Tracking, right? I’ll leave mine on to check the news and stuff, but I’ll turn off all the location data and get off your WiFi. I mean, we know they’ll find us anyway, but it might help, right?”

“And we don’t want Mr. Anonymous Informant calling again,” Lyanno says.

“Ly, stop it,” Dalex says. “Raúl is right. Turn off your phones. And if we see anything about them having our names, we’ll shut yours off, too.”

“I think mine’s already dead,” Cazzu says.

“Good,” Dalex replies. Just as he touches the power button, the phone chirps again in his hand. “A text,” he says.

“Probably for me,” Cazzu says, reaching for the phone, but Lyanno grabs it before she can. “Hey!”

Lyanno reads quickly before anyone can stop him. “‘Julieta, te amo, please call me.’” He looks up at Cazzu. “This guy says ‘te amo’ like that, and he’s not your boyfriend?”

Cazzu stands. Her vision is almost entirely obscured by sparks. Her fist clenches and heats up, and her chest tightens. She could kill him. She could burn him up right here, at least scar him like she did the man on the train before Dalex or Raúl could stop her. She could shut him up. She could -

A flash of lightning, a clap of thunder, and the room is plunged into darkness.

“Cazzu,” Lyanno says.

His voice is so small that Cazzu’s anger vanishes as quickly as it came on. “It’s okay,” she says. She holds out her hand, palm-up, and summons a flame just bright enough to illuminate their faces.

“Thank you,” Lyanno says. He looks so young now, wide-eyed and pale in Cazzu’s meager light. Since that terrible night when they escaped from the lab where they were born, he’s hated the dark. On a normal night, Cazzu might tease him for not growing out of the fear, but tonight, she stays silent.

“I still have service,” Raúl says quietly.

“Any update?” Dalex asks.

“No. Wait - yes, maybe.”

Raúl turns up the volume on his phone again. The same newscaster from earlier is speaking, and Cazzu braces herself for Eladio’s voice.

“...on the Fire Girl case. The chief of police held a press conference earlier today to share their findings.”

Instead of an anonymized Eladio, their city’s police chief speaks next. Captain Ayala’s voice is steady after years of public addresses like this, but it’s clear from his tone that even he is nervous. He summarizes the video - which he calls “the incident” - before getting into what Cazzu and the others really want to hear.

“The woman has been identified as Julieta Cazzuchelli, twenty-six. We have reason to believe that she is with one or more of her family members: Pedro Daleccio, thirty; Raúl Ocasio Ruiz, twenty-six; and Edgardo Feliciano, twenty-four. Though the four have different surnames, they are siblings, and we will consider them as such.”

“At least they didn’t try to say you’re dating one of us,” Raúl says. Lyanno gags dramatically, and Dalex shushes them both.

Raúl is right, though, and so is the police chief. They’re her brothers, even if more than one acquaintance has tried to pair them up before. Cazzu shudders at the thought.

“...extremely dangerous,” Captain Ayala continues. “Recent CCTV photos of the group are being distributed now. If you see any of them, please contact police immediately, and do not try to engage.”

“They’ve got photos of us,” Raúl says.

“Of course they do,” Dalex sighs. “Turn it off.”

Raúl does. Without the glow from his phone, the only light in the room comes from Cazzu’s flame and the occasional lightning strike. The thunder is so low and loud that it feels like one of Lyanno’s earthquakes every time it rolls through.

“They didn’t say anything about -” Raúl starts, but Lyanno interrupts.

“Please don’t bring him up.”

“Sorry,” Raúl says.

Dalex shakes his head. “We have to talk about him, Ly. He’s probably been watching. We know he has police contacts - if they know where we are, he knows where we are.”

Him. Cazzu has been trying not to think about him, preferring to lump him in with a vague “they” who might come after her. But of course he’ll want them back. Of course he’ll seize this chance.

“What do we do if he comes?” Cazzu asks softly.

Dalex doesn’t even hesitate. “We have to take him out.”

“What?” Cazzu, Lyanno, and Raúl cry in unison. They all speak at once.

“We can’t just -”

“You think we -”

“But he’s our -”

“Stop it,” Dalex snaps. “It’s the only way. If he’s gone, this is over. The police don’t care; they don’t know anything. He’s the only one who knows the truth. We have to take him out.”

“And then what?” Lyanno asks. When Dalex hesitates, Lyanno pushes harder. “You’re talking about murder now. What, we just hide from the police forever?”

“I…” Dalex trails off, lips pursed and eyes closed.

“You don’t know,” Lyanno finishes for him.

Cazzu reaches for Dalex, but doesn’t touch him. “If you don’t know, D, please just say so.”

“I don’t know.”

Lyanno swears under his breath.

“Do any of you have a better idea?” Irritation is finally starting to show through Dalex’s voice. It looks to Cazzu like he’s trembling - though that may just be a trick of her light.

“It’s not too late to leave,” Raúl says.

“It’s -” Lyanno starts.

Cazzu holds up a hand to stop him. Raúl’s wrong; it is too late too leave. “We take him out, and then we go. We can re-evaluate when it’s quieter. When they’re not -”

Four heavy knocks on the door interrupt her before she can finish the thought. “Julieta Cazzuchelli,” the voice from outside says, “come out with your hands up.”

They all freeze. Cazzu quickly clenches her hand into a fist to extinguish their light, and Lyanno sucks in a sharp breath. In the next lightning flash, Cazzu sees Raúl lace his fingers through Lyanno’s.

“Julieta,” the voice says again. There are two more knocks, and then nothing.

Cazzu doesn’t relax; she strains her ears for any sign of movement outside. It’s hard to hear much over the rain, but she thinks she can make out voices.

“Police?” Lyanno asks, so low he’s almost inaudible.

Dalex shakes his head. “He’s here,” he whispers.

And Dalex is never wrong. The next voice they hear is softer than the first - still loud enough to be heard through the door, and though it’s been years since they heard it, it’s familiar enough to send chills up all of their spines. “Julieta, it’s your father. Please come out.”

Cazzu’s fist tightens. Fear and rage well up in her throat. She’d hoped to go the rest of her life without hearing that voice. She can’t see the others’ faces, but she can picture them - Lyanno’s eyes squeezed shut, Raúl biting his lip, Dalex forced-calm.

She can picture _his_ face, too. He probably hasn’t changed much.

“Pedro, if you’re in there, open the door. It’s only me.”

Dalex stands, but Cazzu and Lyanno each grab one of his wrists. “What the hell are you doing?” Cazzu hisses.

“We’re taking him out, right?” Dalex replies. “Are we going to do it through the door?”

“Maybe he’ll go away,” Raúl says, but he doesn’t even sound like he believes himself.

Cazzu is seized by the sudden urge to take Raúl’s hand. She does, completing the circle; Cazzu holding Raúl holding Lyanno holding Dalex holding Cazzu. All within arm’s reach. She lets herself enjoy it for one breath, then two.

Another soft knock. “Ly, Raúl…”

Not even _he_ can call Lyanno by his real name. Lyanno lets out a small sound from the back of his throat, halfway between a moan and a sob. The floor shakes, but Cazzu can’t tell whether it’s Lyanno or the thunder. Dalex squeezes their hands.

“I know you’re in there,” says the voice from the other side of the door. “I know you’re all in there. A father always knows where his children are.”

Cazzu sees sparks, but she represses them.

“A father has always known where his children are. Now, open the door, or Daddy’s friend will have to open it for you.”

“Daddy,” Cazzu murmurs. He’s only their father in the most technical sense of the word. He’s not their dad, and he’s certainly no one’s _daddy_. Raúl snorts.

“Who’s his friend, d’you think?” Lyanno asks.

“I didn’t recognize the voice,” Raúl says.

“I’m opening the door,” Dalex says.

“Don’t,” Cazzu and Lyanno say together, but Dalex, liquid as always, has already slid from their grasp.

Before he can walk more than two steps, though, something moves near the door. He must sense the movement, because he stops and turns his head toward the corner. “Lyanno, stop it.”

“That’s not me,” Lyanno says.

“Raúl?”

“No.”

The plant by the door is moving. Not dancing like it had under Dalex’s control earlier, and not twitching like it had under Lyanno’s, but stretching, growing, reaching toward the doorknob. Dalex takes a step backward, and the others stand up with him.

Cazzu lets her palm flare again. It doesn’t matter now if they’re seen; he already knows they’re there. By her light, they watch Dalex’s plant insert itself into the door’s lock. It moves like it’s sentient, digging around in the mechanisms with a clear purpose. Cazzu’s mind whirs at a thousand miles an hour, but it can’t settle on an explanation for what she’s seeing.

The door swings open.

“Hello, kids,” Luian says. “I’ve missed you.”

As badly as Cazzu wants to burn that smile off his face, that toothy grin that has haunted her nightmares for years, she can’t move. Raúl squeezes her hand, but he doesn’t move, either.

But Lyanno doesn’t hesitate. With a stomp of his foot, the floor cracks in two. Luian stumbles, but just as he’s about to fall into the rapidly-growing pit, a web of roots rises up and knits together into a net beneath his feet. He finds his footing, and his smile widens.

It’s only then that Cazzu realizes that he’s not alone. A tiny young woman, about Lyanno’s age and barely as tall as Luian’s shoulder, stands beside him. From her raised hands, Cazzu suspects that she’s the one manipulating the plants. Did he make another “child” with mastery over water?

Behind Luian and the woman are two men, both head-and-shoulders taller than Luian and both wearing dark sunglasses and baseball caps. One of them must be the voice that first called for Cazzu to come out.

“Doctor,” Dalex says, almost comically cordial.

“Pedro,” Luian says. “You have a lovely home. But I hope you’re ready to go back to your _real_ home.”

Something whizzes by Cazzu’s head. It’s not until the object is smashed into a thousand pieces on the floor that she realizes what it was: Dalex’s salt lamp, hurled directly at Luian’s head. But a flash of something bright white had blocked it.

“What the hell?” Raúl murmurs.

Luian nods toward one of the men, then gestures toward Lyanno. “Thank you, Benito. Becky, take care of him.”

The woman at his side nods. A moment later, they all instinctively duck as the window behind them shatters. Cazzu throws her arm across Raúl’s back, protecting him from the worst of the debris but earning herself a constellation of tiny cuts. Rainwater and leaves cover the floor within seconds.

“Dalex!” Lyanno cries. The branches of Dalex’s tree are winding around his arms and legs, and the more he tries to push them off, the tighter they squeeze. “Do something!”

Cazzu summons a fireball, but if she tries to burn the tree, she’ll almost certainly burn Lyanno, too. Better to let Dalex try to control the plants by their water. Instead, she locks eyes with Raúl. She doesn’t have to say a word; he knows what she needs.

She hurls the flame at Luian, Raúl propelling it forward and guiding it toward its target. Just when Cazzu thinks she has him, another sudden white flash appears in front of Luian’s face and blocks the attack.

The man Luian thanked before - Benito - has one hand raised now. His palm glows, and a tiny spark jumps between his fingers. _Electricity_, she thinks. _And Becky’s isn’t water. It’s the plants._

Luian never stopped experimenting. But who is the other man?

As if reading her mind, Luian signals to him. “Anuel…”

At the sound of his name, the man’s face contorts into a grotesque sneer, revealing razor-sharp teeth that seem to grow before their eyes. He roars and charges toward Raúl. He’s fast, impossibly fast, and in the space of a blink, he’s raking his claws across Raúl’s face and chest. His eyes burn red behind his sunglasses.

Cazzu readies another fireball, but Raúl blows Anuel away before she can throw it. Anuel flies backward and slams against a wall, but he stands up almost immediately, shakes off the daze, and rushes Raúl again. This time, Raúl pushes him back and pins him to the wall with a gale-force invisible hand.

Suddenly, pain. White light and pain, agonizing pain, shooting through Cazzu’s every nerve. She doubles over, but it doesn’t help. Someone is screaming in the distance, and Cazzu’s throat feels raw. She wants to die. She wants to throw up.

And then, what feels like hours later, the pain stops. Cazzu looks up in time to see Dalex holding up a sheet of water like a shield between them and Luian. Benito’s lightning bolt connects his hand to the water, spreading electricity through the shield and sparking dramatically but no longer coursing through Cazzu’s body.

Protected for the moment, Cazzu surveys the scene.

When he realizes that his bolt isn’t doing any more damage, Benito lowers his hand. Dalex maintains their protective bubble with one hand and continues trying to untie Lyanno with the other. Becky is stronger than Dalex, though, at least when it comes to the tree; it’s growing new branches now, reaching toward Cazzu and Raúl, threatening to wrap around their ankles and pull them down.

Raúl is still focused on holding Anuel in place and kicking away the plant tendrils one by one. Lyanno struggles against his binds, but without his hands and feet to direct the earth, he’s literally powerless. Cazzu’s hands are still trembling with leftover electricity, and she can’t throw fire far without Raúl’s help even when she’s at full strength.

Luian smiles. Even with one of his men down for the count, the doctor has his children right where he wants them.

But then an idea strikes Cazzu. “Dalex,” she says. “Hit Benito.”

It takes Dalex only a second to realize what she means. They still share one genetically-modified brain. Leaving Lyanno alone for a moment, Dalex brings both hands together to consolidate their liquid shield into one massive sphere. “Direct me,” Dalex says.

“Straight back. Back, back, and - now!”

Dalex releases the water directly over Benito’s head. He tries to dodge it, but Dalex and Cazzu are too fast, the sphere too large to avoid. Luian’s smile falters only slightly; Cazzu has no idea whether this plan will work, and she braces herself for another wave of electrical pain. Benito raises his hand.

And nothing happens.

He flexes both hands, but he can’t create more than a spark. “Doctor -” he starts, but Luian shakes his head vehemently.

“It will come back,” Luian promises, but his voice shakes ever so slightly.

On the other side of the room, Anuel is starting to gain ground against Raúl’s gale. Raúl is breathing heavily, his hands shaking, and Cazzu knows he can’t hold Anuel back much longer.

“I’ve got him,” Cazzu says, and like Dalex, Raúl knows instantly what she means. Together, they blast Anuel with a stream of fire - careful to burn him just badly enough to take him out without actually killing him. The man may have attacked Raúl without a second thought, but they’re not ready to have murder on their collective conscience.

Even if it’s Luian. Cazzu turns back toward him. He looks thoroughly panicked now with Benito incapacitated, Anuel unconscious, and Becky focusing all her energy on just holding Lyanno in place. Clearly he didn’t expect to lose this fight.

Lyanno tries to say something, but the branches have worked their way up to his chest now and are squeezing hard. Raúl sends a gust of wind toward Becky. He’s still recovering his strength from holding Anuel back, so it isn’t very strong, but it’s enough. It distracts her just long enough that Dalex can pull the limbs back and allow Lyanno to take a deep breath.

“The water, Dalex,” Lyanno chokes out. “The water in the tree. Take it -”

He gasps as Becky regains her focus and tightens her grip around his lungs. His eyes widen, silently pleading for them to understand what he was going to say.

_Take it out_, Cazzu thinks. _Take it out._ “Take it out!”

But Dalex is a step ahead of her, as always. He closes both hands and jerks them backward over his shoulders, once, twice, three times. With one last tug, the bark cracks open, the branches shrivel, and the remaining leaves turn brown. Though Becky is still trying desperately to hold him, Lyanno kicks free.

Cazzu and Becky make eye contact for a moment just before Becky turns back to Luian. Her large eyes are wild, not with anger but with confusion and fear. She doesn’t say a word, but those eyes say enough: _What do I do now?_

Luian doesn’t get a chance to answer. Lyanno stomps his foot again, harder than before. The ground ripples like water. A wave rolls across the floor, avoiding Cazzu, Raúl, and Dalex but heading straight for Becky. Luian reaches out a hand to catch her, but the wave is too strong - it knocks both her and Benito off their feet, and neither get back up.

And they’re alone with Luian. His smile is back, though it rings fake. Forced. He’s cornered, and he knows it.

“Now what, Doctor?” Dalex asks.

“You can’t kill me,” Luian says.

“Watch me,” Lyanno says, but Dalex holds up a hand to stop him.

“No, no, you can’t,” Luian continues. “No. You’ve seen what I’ve done for others. You’ve seen what I can do for others. But you don’t know _my_ power.”

“Your power is fucking with other people’s bodies,” Lyanno shoots back.

“Don’t swear, Ly. Not ‘fucking with.’ Modifying. Improving. _Creating._ Just like I created you. And you. And you. And you.” He points at each one in turn. “I’m the only one who can do what I can do. Have you ever told anyone else about your powers?”

No one answers. Cazzu can feel Lyanno staring at her, but she doesn’t move.

Their silence seems to be answer enough for Luian. “That’s what I thought. I’m the only one who knows who - and _what_ \- you all are. If you come with me, you don’t have to hide anymore. With me, you can be your true selves. Without me, you’re no one. You’re nothing.”

Raúl runs a hand over his hair, but doesn’t say anything. Lyanno’s foot twitches, but the resulting tremor is so small that it’s almost imperceptible. Dalex’s mouth is pressed into a thin line.

Cazzu still wants to kill Luian. Wants to watch him burn, hear him scream like the man on the train screamed. But the flame won’t come. His last word echoes in her mind: _nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing._

“Dalex,” she says.

“No,” Dalex says.

“If you can do to people what you did with the plants -” Raúl starts.

“I can’t,” Dalex interrupts.

“You can’t, okay,” Lyanno says, “but _if you can_, now is the time.”

Luian cocks his head and raises an eyebrow. “What are you all talking about? Dalex can’t -”

“Watch me,” Dalex says softly. He raises his hand and points his palm toward Luian, all fingers outstretched.

“Watch what?” Luian asks. “What are you going to…” He trails off, watching Dalex. Though water is pouring from Dalex’s eyes, streaming down his cheeks and dripping on the floor, nothing seems to be happening.

Luian doesn’t move. Dalex’s hand begins to shake.

Silence. Silence except for the driving rain against the roof and through the broken window. Everyone watches Dalex. Maybe he was right; he can’t control people the way he controlled the plant. Luian takes a step forward on the root web.

Cazzu reaches for Dalex. “D, you don’t -”

Luian collapses. A thin line of blood trickles from his nostril and pools in the corner of his mouth. Raúl’s hand flies up and covers his own mouth; Lyanno stands stunned behind him.

“We have to go,” Dalex says. He drops his hand and turns away from the crumpled heap that was Luian.

“He -” Cazzu starts, but Dalex shakes his head.

“We have to go,” he repeats more firmly. “We don’t have time. Police will be here any minute. Leave your phones. Leave everything. Cazzu, get your coat. Let’s go.”

* * *

On the last train out of town, Dalex washes the last of the blood from Raúl’s face and Cazzu’s arm, and Cazzu holds Lyanno’s hands to warm them and get his circulation going again. They’re all on edge now as they come down from the adrenaline high. Their car is quiet.

In fact, they’ve all been nearly silent since they left Dalex’s house. There are no words for what just happened. _For what Dalex did_, Cazzu thinks, but she shakes off the thought.

Finally, Lyanno asks the question on all their minds. “What now?”

“I don’t know,” Dalex says. He sounds so tired, so much older than he did a few hours ago. They won - or at least, Cazzu thinks they won - but he sounds defeated.

“Did you kill him?” Becky asks.

They all turn to her. She’s sitting up slowly, though her hands are bound, and squinting against the harsh artificial light. When she realizes that they’re all looking at her, she straightens up, but the break in her voice already betrayed her fear.

Even with the memories of the battle fresh in her mind, Cazzu is nearly overcome with the impulse to comfort Becky. She looks so young, lost, tied up there across the aisle. But Lyanno’s arms are still criss-crossed with angry red lines, his hands still cold in Cazzu’s. Cazzu doesn’t move.

No one answers Becky’s question. Only Dalex knows the answer.

“He made you,” Dalex says.

“Yes,” Becky replies.

“Then you’re our sister,” Raúl says.

Lyanno snorts. “Do we need another sister?”

It comes out harsh, and they know what he means, but Cazzu can’t help but laugh. Raúl reaches over to pat Cazzu’s knee, and even Dalex cracks a smile. Lyanno huffs, but he’s fighting a smile, too.

Becky eyes them warily. “Who are you?”

_You’re nothing_, Luian’s voice says in Cazzu’s head.

“We’re the first ones he made,” Cazzu says.

They take turns telling the story of their birth - what they remember of it, at least - and of their first secret meetings in the lab when Luian tried to keep them apart.

They recount the night of their escape, the night that may now be the second-worst of their lives. Dalex’s plans, Raúl’s diversions, Cazzu’s light, Lyanno’s destruction, and how they very nearly failed.

And they tell her about their attempts to live normal lives since that night. Cazzu doesn’t mention Eladio, and Lyanno doesn’t bring him up. They tell Becky that they worked, went to school, lived alone for all this time, that no one even suspected they were different.

They don’t tell her about the man on the train.

As they talk, Becky relaxes. The fear in her eyes turns to wonder as she imagines the possibilities of a life without the doctor. Cazzu glances down at Becky’s hands, though it’s still too early to untie her.

Something moves. When Cazzu looks again, there’s a tiny green shoot peeking from between Becky’s fingers.

The phrase _within arm’s reach_ crosses Cazzu’s mind again. _For our last days._ Lyanno’s hands are warming, Raúl’s wounds already starting to scab over. Dalex’s cheeks are dry. They’re all together.

But they’re not, really. Because if Becky is their sister, then maybe Benito and Anuel are their brothers, and there could be more. Now it’s Cazzu’s turn to imagine the possibilities: a real group of people like them. A community. Strength in numbers. No longer afraid to hide. _An army of people like us._

She squeezes Lyanno’s hand, and he squeezes back. No one answered his question, either; they still don’t know what’s next. They’re on the run now, but they have more hope now than they did an hour ago.

They’ll focus on surviving the night first. They can worry about the future later.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you as always to my amazing beta readers, [maria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yehwellwhatever) & [obbel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obbel/pseuds/obbel).
> 
> inspired by [nada](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTZHCzwTYS0).
> 
> title from [sin parar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hffEvD5y-9s).
> 
> if you liked this, uh, [buy my book](https://www.amazon.com/Nothing-R-J-Goldman/dp/B08JF2CDBL).


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